


Fear of the Blue

by foxjar



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-10 17:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19909735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: When Shuu thinks of everyone he's lost — of the possibility to lose Kaneki again — he screams.





	Fear of the Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvilMuffins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/gifts).



Shuu trusts Kaneki: his integrity, his strength, his spirit. He has that fire inside him that always spurs him onward, refusing to give up on those he cares about. Even as Haise, he was still the man Shu has always loved; different, but still there, just beneath the surface. It was difficult to wrap his mind around this at first, but he came around eventually, even if it might have been too late by then.

When Shuu sleeps, he dreams of the ocean. His family had a beach house once, and although he's sure the CCG have razed it to the ground by now, they can't touch his memories. He remembers visiting as a child, where he'd play in the waves as his father watched over him. Sometimes, when he snuck off to explore, one of the servants would catch him. Other times, he would return hours later to everyone scouring the property in their search for him.

The ocean used to mean something to him. It was a sort of home to him; loud and roaring in his ears. Everything used to feel so loud back then, compared to the silence that plagues him now.

It's always been so hard for Shuu to make friends. It took years for him to understand that Chie meant more to him than most people — that she is a friend and not someone to be eaten. Kaneki is like that to him, too; something more.

His dreams are quiet — reminding him that he is alone — but when he wakes up, he's screaming for Kaneki again.

Shuu trusts Kaneki, but he doesn't have faith that he won't leave him again. It could be of his own volition, or it could be someone tearing him away. He doesn't want there to be a day he has to live without Kaneki again — re-living the loss of so many people he holds dear — but something at the back of his head tells him that it's inevitable. It's coming, and he doesn't have the power to stop it.

He howls and thrashes in his bed until Kaneki comes to soothe him; petting his hair and telling him that everything is okay.

He's still here.

"Please," Shuu begs. "I need you."

Kaneki's hand freezes and Shuu pushes his head against him; needy and lonely. His smell is such a comfort to him, and Shuu can't help but sniff him. It's that familiar, syrupy smell he's so used to; sweeter than the finest cuts of flesh.

"Okay. But just this one time."

Shuu nods. "Of course. Just this once."

Kaneki crawls into bed with him — with that intoxicating scent of his — before Shuu moves down to nuzzle the front of his pants. His smell is so strong here, and Shuu has to fight to retain his composure. His muscles ache with the effort; his hands twitching with desire.

He unzips his pants and pulls down his underwear, bringing Kaneki's length to his lips. His whole body shudders as he runs his tongue along the tip, grateful for every moment bestowed to him. He takes him into his mouth, his throat gagging at the fullness, and still, his heart demands more.

_More._

Kaneki tries to hold in his moans, but Shuu can hear his pleasure in the way he gasps; can feel it in the way his hips shake. Every sound and smell sends a jolt up his spine, making him want to give Kaneki everything he has.

He doesn't have much left. Just himself; his strength and his love.

_I hope this is enough for you, my love._

He runs his hands along Kaneki's hips, feeling the firmness of his thighs as he pulls his pants down past his knees. So firm, so supple beneath his touch. He smells delicious, of course — like everything he has ever dreamed of — but he doesn't want to kill him anymore. A life without Kaneki would be tragic.

Appalling. Not worth living.

Shuu prefers Kaneki like this: pliant in his hands, moaning as he swallows around him. If Kaneki was the last thing he ever tasted, he thinks he would be happy with that.

But he can't give up now. He has to live for himself, for everyone they've lost, and for Kaneki.

It's almost too much when Kaneki reaches down to brush his hand down his cheek, running his fingers along his jaw; feeling every movement he makes. He can tell he's close by how he touches him with such softness, one hand running through his hair. Kaneki never pulls his hair, despite how much Shuu feels like he deserves it sometimes. He thinks he might like it, even; that roughness as he accepts that loss of control.

When Kaneki finishes in his mouth, he moans at the bitterness. It's the best thing he's ever tasted, and he can't help but rut his hips against the rough sheets, more aroused than ever.

Although Kaneki keeps him grounded with these excursions, he has other work to do, too. As much as he'd like to beg him not to leave — like before, when Kaneki left him a sobbing mess back on that rooftop as he ventured off to his doom — he can't bring himself to muster the words.

_Don't leave me. Not again._

Kaneki pats Shuu's head before he slips out of bed, his belt clanging in the silence. He should let him attend to his business, but that's the last thing he wants. Shuu pulls him back onto the bed before he can re-button his pants, running his hand up his thigh.

His body feels weak: eyes drooping closed, limbs heavy, jaw sore. He's so hungry. If he could have a taste — just a little taste — he knows it would sustain him.

_Why is Kaneki being so cruel? Why won't he feed me?_

_More._

"Please." Another beg, even needier than the last.

In the silence, he can hear how loudly his heart beats in his chest, and it almost sounds like the ocean. Like loneliness.

"Just this once," Kaneki says, kissing his sweaty forehead.

"Of course."


End file.
